Category: Mild Romantic Fluff, Hurt and Comfort
Characters: Shoto Todoroki, Momo Yaoyorozu
Requested by: anubislover (Tumblr)
The microwave had been beeping for several seconds, indicating that her glasses of milk were thoroughly warmed. Unfortunately, Momo was too busy staring blankly at the device's black shiny surface to realize. She heaved a heavy sigh for perhaps the twentieth time that day, and in her discolored reflection in the shielded window's surface, her lashes fluttered in a languid blink. Shoto…
The boy had been on her mind all night, and not in a pleasant way. The image of him falling to his knees, sweat pouring down his face and hands clasped in a prayer of thanks to whatever deity had spared his father's life, was simply too visceral an image to ignore. After the news program had wrapped up the coverage of Endeavor's battle with the Nomu, Shoto had retired to his room despite the fact it was early in the afternoon. The time was inching closer to 9 p.m., and the boy had not ventured out of his bedroom, not even when Mina called everyone for dinner. Surely he must be at least a little hungry, Momo pouted worriedly. It was then that she finally realized her milk had finished microwaving, and she opened the appliance. Two glasses of milk for hot chocolate- one for herself and one for Shoto. If he would accept it, that is.
Momo removed the jar of homemade hot cocoa powder from the cabinet then stirred generous spoonfuls into each of the ceramic mugs, followed by a spritz of vanilla extract for a homey, calming flavor. Just inhaling the fresh scent eased her nerves a little- but only a little. Careful not to burn her fingers, Momo carefully gripped the handles of the mugs and walked out of the kitchen to slowly ascend the stairs. Her lips remained drawn into a firm frown, and her anxiety mounted with every step she took.
What if he doesn't appreciate my gesture of kindness? Oh, I don't want him to find me insensitive or annoying, she fretted as she rounded the landing. It was a good thing she could operate from muscle memory, for her mind was whirling. What if it's too hot and it scalds him? At that worrying thought, she compulsively blew on both mugs a few times to cool the surface layer of thick, creamy liquid. Or what if it's not hot enough? Momo doubted it, from the thin white wisps of steam curling above her fingers, but it wasn't like her mind was willing to listen to reason. She even debated scurrying back down the steps to pop them in the microwave for another thirty seconds or so; she didn't, but only because she had arrived at Shoto's room. She inhaled sharply to steel her nerves before knocking on the door with one of her sock-covered feet.
"Shoto? I brought you some hot chocolate. I thought you might like some," she called buoyantly. There was no sound for a few seconds, so she wondered if he had fallen asleep. "Shoto?" she repeated, though more softly just in case he actually was slumbering. This time, she distinctly heard the creaking of bedsprings. Oh no! I did wake him up! she panicked. If her hands were not occupied with the two mugs, she probably would've started chewing on her nails. She fidgeted, unsure what she should do to amend her rudeness, and Shoto cracked the door open. She fell still as his heterochromatic eyes regarded the steaming mug of hot cocoa uninterestedly. Well, to Momo, he seemed indifferent, but who could tell with his usually aloof demeanor? She gulped loudly before pushing it towards him. "… It's warm. I just made it." Her voice was soft, like she was coaxing a stray dog to accept her affections. That's certainly what it felt like with the way Shoto ever-so-slightly backed away from her extended arm. He did not retreat fully, however. After a few tense seconds, he took the cup from her. An electric jolt traveled up Momo's arm as his fingertips brushed against hers.
"Thank you." His eyes flickered up to meet hers, and Momo wanted to start crying then and there with how miserable he appeared. Dark circles ringed his grey-and-blue eyes, and his entire face sagged with weariness. His bi-colored hair was disheveled and sticking up in odd places, like he had been tossing and turning in a fever fit. Shoto must have thought she was waiting for him to try it with how she stood there, studying him in mounting concern, so he brought the mug to his lips and sipped. His gaze never left hers. "It's good," he offered cajolingly.
"O-oh," she stammered, because replying was the right thing to do, her sparking brain recalled. "Thank you. I suppose… I shall be going." Momo hesitated to finish the statement because she did not want to leave, not with how terrible Shoto looked. Social decorum dictated, however, that she be respectful of his boundaries- no matter how badly she wanted to comfort him.
As she turned on her heel, his other hand darted out to catch her elbow in a light and almost fearful touch. Momo felt that crackling electricity shoot up her limb again, this time coursing into the muscles of her neck and making them spasm. Momo obediently halted, glancing down at the hand delicately gripping her arm and then up at him. He was looking away from her now, frowning frustratedly and blushing with slight embarrassment.
"Momo, I… Please stay with me."
She could not help but release a startled squeak. Blood rushed to her face, dying it the hue of rose tea. Despite her mortification at the blunt request, Momo had no intention of refusing. Shoto was staring at her so pleadingly, so brokenly, that it was liable to break her heart. His fingers tensed around her elbow in silent begging. Please, his eyes implored, I don't want to be alone.
"Of course I will." Her face relaxed into a soft smile, and she reached around to brush his knuckles gently. His hand slipped from her arm only to entreatingly grasp her fingers. His intense gaze remained on her face as he stepped back into his bedroom. His fingers curled around hers, and he tugged on her arm to guide her through the doorway. Momo allowed him to puppeteer her body as he wished. She sucked in a small breath when he leaned in to shut the door. His chest bumped against hers, making her flush. He must have seen the redness blooming over her cheeks because he retreated quickly and muttered, "Sorry."
He gasped the ceramic mug in both hands and seated himself on the edge of the bed. Momo stood awkwardly in the center of the room for a moment, unsure how exactly to go about comforting the reserved boy. After a few moments of consideration, she eased herself down onto the mattress beside him, with a good nine inches of space for comforting closeness that did not override respectable boundaries. "Shoto," she frowned as he sipped wordlessly at the chocolate beverage. "Are you all right?"
"I'm just confused; that's all," he responded honestly. Momo breathed a small sigh of relief; at least he was forthcoming. She wasn't sure if she had the willpower to pry his troubles out of him. His two-colored gaze flickered to her before fixating on the creamy brown mixture below. "I've always despised my father for the awful things he did to the rest of my family and me. Yet, watching him fight for his life on that screen today… The only thing I kept thinking was 'Please don't die.'"
Momo tutted understandingly and reached up to tuck a loose chunk of his white hair behind his ear, because that felt like the right thing to do. Shoto didn't flinch or reprimand her, and even leaned a little into her caress, making her knuckles bump against his cheekbone. His gaze was bitter and ashamed as he watched small bubbles pop one by one on the hot chocolate's surface. "I almost feel like I've betrayed my brothers, sister, and mother by not wishing him dead."
"Shoto," she breathed and pressed a little closer to him and went to rest a hand on his knee. She faltered though, leaving her hand hanging in midair, because she was afraid that she was crossing a line. He looked down at her hand, and then he shifted his leg to seek her comforting touch, making their knees bump. Following the silent cue, she placed her hand on his leg and another on his upper back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. "Even with all the things your father has done, it is not shameful of you to pray for his life. You are a kind and wonderful person who's aspiring to be a hero. Frankly, I would be more worried if you had wished him dead."
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, and he peered at her out of his periphery. She smiled kindly and lifted her hand to stroke once over his hair. Her heart fluttered as he rolled his head a little to press against her palm. His eyes were like a blizzard and a storm, pulsing with energy as he regarded her. "There is no right or wrong way to respond to the trauma you've suffered," she explained softly, "and however you respond to it is valid. You can forgive him, or you can't. You can recognize his attempts to change, or you can't. You have the right to heal and process how you wish."
"Thanks, Yaoyorozu." His voice cracked with the small utterance, and even with how downcast his head was, she could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he fought back the tears. Momo gently clucked her tongue and eliminated the few inches of space left between them, hugging him into her side and pulled his head onto her shoulder. He willingly sought out her embrace, burying his face into her neck. His hot breath and his cold tears tingled her nerves, but she ignored the peculiar sensation, focusing her energy into soothingly stroking his two-toned hair.
"Of course. I'm here for you anytime, Shoto. There's no shame in asking for help either, you know." His entire body was trembling with barely-suppressed sobs, so he only nodded weakly in response. The hot chocolate writhing in the mug as his hand wracked with tremors, so Momo gently took it and set it on the bed behind her alongside her cup before wrapping both her arms around him in a firm hug. His hands pawed into her woolen sweater as he finally broke, releasing a choking sob. "It's okay," she shushed him as he groaned in frustrated agony. "I don't judge you. We all need to cry sometimes." She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his. "You take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere."
Shoto choked out deep, agonized sobs now and then, but he primarily cried silently. The thick collar of her sweater soon dampened with his tears and felt clumpy against her collarbone, but she hardly minded or even noticed. He painted the skin of her neck with salt and water, a portrait of misery and trauma long overdue. He was so touch-starved and desperate for comfort that he slung his leg over hers at one point and almost climbed into her lap, unbalancing her with his superior weight. Momo made the quick decision to set the mugs of hot chocolate on the nightstand and lay down on the bed, allowing him to climb on top of her and bury his face back into her neck. It was a bit awkward and hard to breathe with his muscular bulk, and her face burned with the implications, but Shoto had no ulterior motives in mind. He wanted love and affirmation, and she was the only one there to give it. She would yield that, gladly.
His muffles sniffles gradually quieted into deep breaths. Momo had taken to idly running her fingers over his spine and into his hair and back again. "Do you feel better?" she asked him. He groaned a little under his breath and pushed himself up onto his forearms, blinking at her with bleary, watery red eyes. His gaze then dropped, and a pink haze appeared on his cheeks.
"… Much," he admitted in a small voice. Momo giggled and cupped his face in her hands, making him blush further.
"Don't be embarrassed."
"This is a pretty embarrassing position we're in. I'm surprised you're not embarrassed." Truthfully, Momo had been too busy soothing the boy to pay much attention, but he was right. His thigh was lodged between hers, and his entire weight draped over her left side, chest-to-chest. Her face blazed with a sudden pink fire, and he narrowed his eyes. "I knew it," he sighed and moved to get up. For reasons she couldn't process at the moment, her hands snapped to his biceps to dig in and hold him in place.
"N-no! I'm all right! Really!" she squeaked in protest. His eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair, and he regarded her bewilderedly. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, not settling on any one thing for more than a second, while she pitifully attempted to voice her scattered thoughts. "I-I mean, we're friends, right? Some platonic cuddling is good bonding! N-not that this was about the cuddling, of course. I just wanted to make you feel better, a-a-and I just don't know how to comfort someone without, you know, t-t-touching and h-holding…" The more she blathered explanations, the more mortified she felt, and her face took on the hue of an apple. When she finally looked back at him, he was smiling widely in amusement.
"So… you won't mind if I do this?"
All the breath was knocked out of her lungs in a whistling wheeze as he flopped down on her.
"Shotooooo," she groaned as her chest muscles tightened under strain, and she could feel his body rumble as he chuckled. He propped his cheek into his hand and grinned mischievously at her, to which she responded with a babyish pout. She gasped when he suddenly stroked her cheek with the backs of his index and middle fingers, ever so softly.
"Thank you, Yaoyorozu. I mean it."
She smiled warmly at him and tilted her head a little, her black hair falling over his pillow.
"Anytime." She frowned thoughtfully and then grinned. "You know, considering we're…" she gestured generically at their current position, "you can call me Momo." He snorted with laughter and then nodded.
"Of course… Momo." Something about the way he whispered her name sent pleasurable tingles propagating all through her nerves, lighting her up with invisible fireworks. His eyes searched her face, studying it intently like he wished to memorize every nuance. Momo knew not what to do about it, so she remained still, breathlessly watching his heterochromatic eyes roam over her flushed face. After what seemed like hours, his wandering gaze settled on her lips. Without looking away, he quietly asked, "Momo… Can I…?" He did not finish his sentence, but she knew what he was asking, nevertheless. She responded with a tiny nod, and her breath stalled in her lungs in anticipation.
Balancing himself on his elbows, he descended over her to press their lips together in a sweet, virtuous kiss. Momo tilted her head slightly, allowing his lips to mold over hers; it felt so natural, the way they fell into place, like they were two halves of the same whole. He held the kiss for several heart-pounding moments before pulling back, brushing the tip of his nose along hers as he did so. Momo compulsively swallowed and licked her lips, tasting the very faint hints of hot chocolate he left behind. Shoto smiled affectionately and ran his hands through her fluffy black hair. "I suppose you should get going before the others get curious."
"I could," she supposed, "but I'm not sure I want to." Shoto blushed at that, looking at the two half-drunken mugs of now cold chocolate. He then looked back to her, and she turned her head to display the curve of her neck invitingly. His eyes flashed roguishly before he grinned and buried his face there, his chest swelling as he inhaled her scent. Momo wrapped her arms around his middle and closed her eyes contentedly. She savored the rise and fall of his chest, the puffs of his breath against her skin, and his fingertips trailing down her curves. Momo knew she was well over the line of propriety and decorum, but she didn't care much.
I'll hold you in my arms forever, if that's what it takes for you to heal, she thought as she drifted into the pleasant twilight of half-sleep. Here with me, you will always be safe and loved.